The two guards looked to one another and then down the hall where no pursuers appeared.

“Please,” she pleaded, her fingers still gripping one of their arms.

New plan. This wasn’t working. Helena’s mind spun as she blinked rapidly. Whoever was being guarded in that room was most likely an ally.

Two rebels appeared around the corner, stopping when they saw her with the rebel guards.

“What do we have here, Astor?” one of them asked.

Astor must have been the guard whose arm she still held because the new arrival flicked his eyes to her hand before settling on her face. He smirked.

She removed her hand, using it to push her sticky hair from her sweat-dampened forehead. Her heart thundered in her ears as they neared.

Four rebels now surrounded her, and she finally understood why her father never let her out of the palace. Madra was a dangerous place. People always wanted to take things from those who had them.

In order to face the perils, one had to become dangerous themselves.

Helena rose up to her whole height—which, granted, was still much shorter than their muscular builds. But the look she gave them could have cut glass.

“I have orders.” She slipped the knife from her sleeve into her palm. “You will allow me to see the prisoner.”

If the guards were surprised at her sudden change in demeanor, they didn’t show it. Astor grinned. “Yeah, well we have orders too.” They closed in around her, cutting off any escape.

Helena sucked in a shaky breath, refusing to let the fear coursing through her show on her face. She clenched the knife so tightly it bit into her skin.

But the pain only reminded her why she was here.

They’d killed her father. Murdered her mother. For all she knew, Stev and Kass had joined them in the after.

A Madran princess experienced a transformation on the night of her name day ball. It was meant to change her from child to woman in the hearts and eyes of the people.

It was the day they were truly revealed to the world.

Hours ago, she’d ripped off her mask, but the transformation was now. No longer a princess of a kingdom she already knew her family had lost. Never to be royal again.

All she had left was the burning revenge inside her heart.

She flipped the knife into her other hand, light from the torches dancing across the ornate steel blade.

One of the rebels laughed. “I don’t think this one is on our side, boys.” He leaned in. “I was there, you know. When they took the young prince.” He drew a line across his throat with his thumb.

“You’re lying,” she lunged.

He jumped back. “Why are you loyal to a royal family who cares nothing for you?”

She swiped with the knife, and he gripped her wrist to stop its arc.